


Graham Glasses

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Drinking is bad people, M/M, Mistakes were made, Not My Fault, Zellibal, poor hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal gets drunk with team sassy science. Mistakes were made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Graham Glasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mwuahna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/gifts).



> This is crack of the first magnitude. It was prompted by Mwuahna, who challenged me to write a fic based off a pic. Please forgive me.

Hannibal woke with his nose nestled in a bed of brown curls. His head was fuzzy from drinking Price’s “Forensic Frappe”, which was apparently an appalling mix of gasoline and synthetic fruit juices, but got better the more you drank. When Will handed him a third beaker filled with the repulsive fluid and said “Bottoms up, Dr. Lecter”, Hannibal swallowed the slop down without a thought.

Matching Will drink for disgusting drink turned into matching Will kiss for sucking kiss as they fumbled into a cab. Hannibal made sure to tip the driver well, Will latched to his neck as he threw $50s into the front seat. Hannibal vaguely wondered where Will’s dogs were, but that thought was sucked out of him the moment his empath dropped to his knees in the living room.

The rest of the night was a blur of wet mouths, sharp teeth, gripping fingers, and sliding lube.

Hannibal would have to send Mr. Price a thank you note, perhaps ask for his Forensic Frappe recipe. He nuzzled into Will’s curls, nipping lightly at the base of his skull.

“Hey, you’re up.” Will stirred, and Hannibal froze. Will sounded different in the morning. In fact, Will smelled different in the morning too. Hannibal held his breath and prayed that it was the lack of aftershave causing the olfactory confusion.

Hannibal’s hangover hit the second the warm body in front of him turned fully. Zeller – _god, was his first name Brian or Ryan?_ – brought a warm hand up to his face, and gallingly ruffled Hannibal’s hair. The cannibal briefly considered snapping the man’s neck, but realized mournfully that witnesses may be able to remember him getting into a cab with this unfortunate man.

Mr. Price was not getting a thank you note, though an invitation to dinner was on the table.

“Man, who knew you were such a tiger, huh?” Zeller said, pressing his mouth to Hannibal’s slack one. He allowed Zeller to suck on his lower lip while he gaped. “I guess it’s always the buttoned up ones, huh?”

“I…Mr. Zeller…I feel we may have been inebriated last night.”

“Mr. Zeller, huh? Kinky. I’m into it Dr. Lecter,” Hannibal was at a total loss when the lab tech straddled him, yanking on his hair. He has never felt shame, but he imagined this pulsing sense of dread that flooded his brain may be a similar sensation. “Not as kinky as the graham cracker thing, though.”

“I’m sorry, graham cracker?” Hannibal shoved at Zeller’s thrusting hips, landing on the floor with an inelegant thud as he made his escape.

“Don’t you remember? Last night, you kept moaning about graham crackers! _Oh my darling Graham Cracker. How I’ve longed for this my Graham Cracker._ It was wild.” Zeller reached for the nightstand as Hannibal frantically gathered his slacks and a shirt – the lab tech could keep his waistcoat and jacket if it meant a quick exit. Zeller shook a box of Honey Grahams. “See? I brought it up from the cabinet last night!”

“I thank you for your courtesy.” Hannibal was moving for the door. He could call a cab and button his shirt as he walked.

“Hey, you don’t have to go! We could have breakfast? Or, hey, want to go again?” Hannibal was down the stairs before Zeller could say anything else.

* * *

Monday morning, Hannibal had repaired the tatters to his person suit and was prepared to face the lab and Will Graham. He would simply laugh off the one night stand and take the ribbing he was sure Beverly and Price were frothing to give him.

“Good morning Dr. Lecter,” Will. His darling Will. Maybe he wasn’t prepared for this.

“Good morning Will, how was your weekend?”

“Not as fun as yours apparently. Man, I’m sorry I left the party early.” Will smiled, and for the first time, Hannibal truly hated that expression on his face. “Thank god there are pictures.”

It felt like the floor had fallen away from the lab.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you not on Facebook?”

“No. Why would I be?”

“Oh, well Zeller made you two Facebook Official yesterday,” Will said with a shrug. “Don’t worry, it’s a sweet picture. I admit, I’m a little jealous, nothing that good ever happens to me at parties.”

Hannibal could only nod. He promised himself that he would feed Zeller’s tongue to his beloved, in due time. Will walked down the hall, Hannibal allowed himself to stare openly at the empath’s ass, the one small consolation for a horrible few days.

“Hey Dr. Lecter,” Zeller purred in his ear. “Miss me?”

“Mr. Zeller, we need to talk.”

“Can’t we let our bodies do the talking?” Zeller leaned in, puckering. Hannibal grabbed chin in a panic.

“Please allow me to take you to lunch.” He needed to end this now. In a place with no witnesses…and perhaps a place to store a body. Hannibal shoved Zeller’s face back a little harder than necessary, but the tech didn’t seem to notice.

“Sure! Let me grab my stuff.” Zeller practically ran past Price as he headed into the lab. Hannibal held his hand up to the approaching Price.

“Mr. Price, please -”

“You thought he was Will, didn’t you?”

Hannibal blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“At the party, you got drunk, saw curls and thought it was your lucky day. Am I close?” Hannibal’s eyes widened and his head dipped just slightly. “Don’t worry about it man, we’ve all been there.”

Price turned slightly to call over his shoulder.

“Hey Bev, I told you it was Graham Glasses.”

Beverly’s head popped out from a doorway, her face the picture of sympathy.

“Oh man, I’m sorry. We’ve all been there.”

“I’ve been there three times,” said Jimmy, resting a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. “It’s why I don’t drink at these parties anymore.”

“Only twice for me.” Bev said, coming to join the men. “But don’t sweat it, Zeller’s not hard to break up with. I swear he’s doing this for the free lunches.”

Zeller rounded the corner with his jacket over his arm.

“Ready to go, Dr. Lecter?”

“Word to the wise,” Jimmy whispered into Hannibal’s ear. “No matter how painful the conversation gets, don’t order a drink.”

 

**Inspiration:**  


End file.
